


When You Know It’s Meant To Be

by skoosiepants



Category: Bandom, Disney RPF, Jonas Brothers, The Academy Is...
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-15
Updated: 2010-01-15
Packaged: 2017-10-15 03:18:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/156487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skoosiepants/pseuds/skoosiepants
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kevin realizes Mike is his Disney princess, and Mike realizes Kevin would look hot naked.</p><p><i>Mike grins. “So here’s the thing,” he says. “It’s just like kissing a girl, only you’ve got some harder surfaces to work with.”</i></p><p><i>There’s a muffled, “Oh my god,” and Kevin brings up his other hand so he’s kind of covering his whole face, laughing more now, and Mike takes advantage of his distraction by slipping his fingers up under Kevin’s shirt.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Know It’s Meant To Be

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I think this is my favorite thing I’ve written since Dancing Without Warning. You can call this a canon AU, or, if you’re delusional like me, you can call this FUTURE FIC. Kevin would totally realize he was gay on his honeymoon, right?

I. _you can be gay_

  
It was—okay. It wasn’t _bad_ , but it maybe wasn’t what everyone had made it out to be. Kevin had just been expected something, uh, more? And maybe a lot less awkward, because they were totally married now and she’s his shining, beautiful Disney princess, and their lives together—it’s going to be a fairytale, it’s going to be _perfect_. He just has to get over this one little problem.

When he talks to Joe, Joe says, “Dude, that’s a big problem, are you kidding me?”

“It’s not. It’s one aspect of our awesome lives together, that’s all.” Kevin is afraid he sounds as unsure as he feels. He doesn’t want to let everyone down, but Joe’s just confirming what he’d kinda been afraid of - sex with someone you love is supposed to be awesome and fun and _worth the wait_.

Kevin is hiding in a cabana. He’s sticky hot with his t-shirt on, and he absently rubs over the hickey Dani left on his collarbone. It really kind of hurts. And is embarrassing, even though he’s sure it’s not supposed to be.

“All right,” Joe says. Kevin can hear him snapping his gum. “Give me a rundown, what went wrong?”

“Um.” Kevin doesn’t think anything actually went wrong - Dani seemed pretty happy? “There was just, uh, I don’t know, man, I guess I didn’t think about how much boobs just kind of—get in the way?”

The snapping stops. Joe says, slow-like, “Kev,” and then pauses, like he doesn’t know what else to say.

“What?”

“Kev,” Joe says again, “I’m pretty sure boobs are, like, one of the best parts.”

“I know,” Kevin says quickly. “They’re just. Big.”

“Right. Right.”

Kevin feels hotter, only more from how stupid this conversation is than the island heat. “Look, it’s fine.”

“No, Kev, I don’t think it’s—”

“Seriously, I’ve got it under control, I was—we were just nervous.” Nerves can get to you like that, right? They can make you sick to your stomach and shaky and kind of—disgusted? Or something?

“Kevin,” Joe says. “Did you.” He makes a pained sound. “Did you get off?”

“Oh. Oh, yeah. Yes.” He’s not—that wasn’t exactly the problem; he’s used to, you know, doing it himself, for years, he can think of a million things that work for the whole getting off thing.

Joe sighs. “Please tell me you used protection.”

Kevin wrinkles his nose. “What, why?”

“Because. Because I think—you know, Kev, you should really talk to Dani about this, okay?”

Yeah, right. Like Kevin’s going to bring this up with his wife, geez. Sure, honey, I love you lots but you aren’t exactly doing it for—oh. Oh, damn it, _what_? Kevin swallows hard. He says, trying to hold back the reins on his _absolute panic_ , because this totally doesn’t mean anything. At all. “That’s, uh. That’s a good plan.”

*

It doesn’t have anything to do with how much Kevin loves Danielle, he is absolutely sure of that. He’s just realized, belatedly, that breasts freak him out. This is unfortunate for everyone involved; he really should have thought more about the fact that making out with Dani had never been very high on his priority list.

In his defense, his priority list is _super long_.

Kevin sprawls out on the bed - their _honeymoon_ bed - and says, “I just don’t get it.”

This is after Danielle had locked herself in the bathroom and sobbed for an hour. After which she’d let Kevin in and they’d _both_ sobbed together for an hour - now Kevin’s just emotionally _exhausted_.

“I thought maybe you were just a gentleman,” Dani says, sniffing. She’s got raccoon eyes and her nose is swollen. Kevin still thinks she’s gorgeous.

“I’m—well, I _am_ ,” Kevin says, flapping a hand around. Kevin will never not be a gentleman, his parents raised him right. “I just, I don’t know what to _do_ with you.” He doesn’t get how boobs work, and how they’re frighteningly squishy and, like, right there, in his face.

“Well.” Danielle nods slowly. “Um, maybe we should try again?”

Kevin blanches, but he’s totally not a quitter. It’s a good idea. Sex is totally something that just gets better with time and practice. “Okay,” he says.

“Okay,” Dani echoes.

They stare at each other.

Dani makes a face and reaches behind her and unties her bikini top and—Kevin thinks that she’s - not cookie-cutter pretty, but _beautiful_. That her curves are awesome, but he’s not sure he wants to touch them.

Kevin hooks his fingers in the waistband of his board shorts and shimmies them down his hips, and then Dani’s hands are on him, cool and smooth, and Kevin’s—Kevin’s twenty-two, so he’s okay with getting hard from a tight squeeze, but when he cups her shoulders, when she straddles his waist—his mind echoes harsh guitar chords, the exhilarating roar of the crowd. He has to make his body remember the vibrations of the bass-drum through thousands of stage floors in order to get his hips to move. There’s just. Nothing sexy about the narrow ribcage under his hands, and his fingers flinch away from the underbelly of Dani’s breasts.

*

“Mom and dad are gonna be so pissed, do you know how much your wedding cost?” Nick says, pacing up and down the living room. “A freaking _castle_ , Kev, you bought her glass slippers!”

“We’re not doing anything about it,” Kevin says, twisting his fingers together in his lap.

Joe snorts. “What, she’s gonna be your beard? For real?”

Kevin flushes. “Uh, _no_. We’re married.”

“Right,” Nick nods, stopping in front of him with his hands on his hips. “I’m pretty sure you can get it annulled.”

“No.”

“Yeah, you can. I mean, it’s been, what, two weeks?”

“We’re not getting a divorce or getting annulled or whatever,” Kevin says. They’d talked a lot about this, and Dani’s his best friend and he loves her, and besides the whole celibacy thing, their marriage is pretty ideal. It’s not like Kevin’s not _used_ to being celibate.

Nick stares at him.

Joe stares at him.

Nick says, “You’re crazy. I have an actual crazy person for a brother.”

“It’s not like I was ever going to tell anyone!” Kevin says. He’s not _crazy_ , geez.

“Why not?” Joe says. “You can be gay. I’m not gonna say you can’t be out and gay.”

“I’m not—”

“If you say you’re not gay, after you called me from your _honeymoon_ , crying about _terrible heterosexual sex_ , I’m seriously going to punch you in the face,” Joe says.

Kevin frowns. He hadn’t been—he just hasn’t put a label on himself yet. For all he knows, he could be asexual; it’s not like he’s ever made out with any guys. “I just don’t want to jump into anything,” he says.

Nick stares at him some more. Finally, he says, “Okay.” He says, “Joe’s right, Kevin,” - Joe lets out a, “ _boo-yah!_ ” and pumps his fist - “but if you and Dani want to do this, we’re going to be here for you any way we can. We just want you to be happy.”

“I know.” Kevin pulls Nick into a hug. “I’ll be good.”

“Awww, bro-hugs!” Joe says, then flings himself on top of Nick and sort of pulls Kevin into a headlock, and it’s familiar and awesome and kind of—painful, too.

*

Being married to Danielle is not unlike _not_ being married to Danielle. Mainly because Kevin works a lot.

In the beginning, when Nick was on his solo tour and Joe was busy being Joe, Kevin had lots of free time to hang out with Dani and decorate their house and set up elaborate web pranks with Frankie, but once the new season of JONAS started taping, and they started working on a new album and talking about another tour, it was like time reversed itself, and Dani was Dani-the-girlfriend again, only they lived in the same house.

It works until it doesn’t work. Until Dani sits him down one day nearly six months later and tells him she’s met someone, and it’s not like Kevin can be mad or even surprised or anything. He’s content, but he can see how Dani might not be.

She signs a deal about how long she has to wait to be seen in public with this new guy, this bank teller named Steven - who Kevin’s met and actually likes, he’s got a big, goofy smile and wears bowties to work and has three different Thrasher t-shirts; at least, that Kevin’s seen. Nick makes him do it, has the lawyer draw everything up, and Kevin _hates_ it, because that’s not how it normally goes at all, probably not even for Hollywood couples, but it’s not like anything about this marriage has ever been normal.

Dani says, “It’s fine, Kev, I don’t mind,” after initialing the last of the papers. “It’s actually better, you know, I don’t want you hurt.”

Kevin nods. It’s weird, they’re mega-stars, but they get a lot of flak for being the Jonas Brothers, anyway - and he’s the lame older brother, the one most likely to be the odd man out, so it’s probably better this way.

They hadn’t had a prenup - which Nick had actually completely freaked out about, Joe does a great impression, complete with mad-scientist hair - but it doesn’t matter. Danielle says she doesn’t want anything that isn’t hers, and Kevin’s apparently got a wider view of what that means, because their house doesn’t even look empty without her.

Kevin calls their lawyer and has him split everything fifty-fifty anyway, everything he’s made in the past half year.

And then he goes out and gets spectacularly drunk.

*

  
II. _you’ve got some harder surfaces to work with_

  
Bill says, “So what’s the emergency?” and Mike is already drunk, so it takes him a few minutes to parse his words.

“Death,” Mike says finally. He lights up another cigarette, even though he hasn’t finished his last one, and ends up double fisting them.

Bill makes a face. “I thought you quit?” He sprawls out on the bench seat across from him and steals Mike’s beer. “And I’m assuming you’re talking about your own death,” he says, surveying the number of empty shot glasses and beer bottles Mike has lined up on the table.

“Em’s pregnant,” Mike says. It still sounds weird in his head. That could be all the alcohol, though.

Bill arches an eyebrow and tips the top of the beer bottle towards him. “Felicitations, then.”

Mike blinks at him. “It’s not mine.”

“Oh.” Bill blinks back. “Shit.”

Mike salutes him with his last shot. “Yep.”

Bill takes a long pull off his beer, taps his fingers on the cool glass. “Are you sure it isn’t yours?”

“She’s four months. Four months ago we were—not here,” Mike says, waving his hand. They were on tour, and he hasn’t had sex with Em in five months, for various reasons, so yeah, he’s pretty fucking sure. “Plus, she told me it wasn’t.”

“Bitch,” Bill says, and then chugs the rest of the bottle and flags a waitress down for more. “ _Bitch_ ,” he says again, once he has two more beers and six more shots.

“Thanks,” Mike says.

Bill pushes a glass towards him. “Vodka. Good for what ails you, with stunning effects on your memory. Drink up, yo ho.”

“That’s rum,” Mike says, but he tilts back the shot, barely grimacing at the burn sliding down his throat.

“We’ll start on that next.”

When they leave the bar, hours later, Mike’s afraid he’s drunken himself sober, full circle, but then he trips off the curb and throws up in the gutter, so not really.

Bill pats his back, but he’s not much better, and if the bartender hadn’t called them a cab – at least, he _thinks_ she did, someone had taken his car keys - Mike’s sure they’d be waking up slumped together in an alley the next morning – he can barely keep his eyes open, but when he closes them everything _spins_.

“Um, are you alright?”

Mike looks up – he’s on the ground now? Where’s Bill? – and sees a poodle. Or, like, a guy, a familiar guy, he’s sure, with poodle hair and full, flushed cheeks and he’s, like, fucking _adorable_.

“Fuck,” Mike says.

The guy’s eyes widen. But then he hunches down and grabs Mike’s arms and helps him up – they stumble a little, and Mike thinks maybe the guy isn’t as drunk as he is, but he isn’t totally sober, either. Mike leans his face into his shoulder and takes some deep breaths and thinks about throwing up again.

He doesn’t, but it’s a close thing.

“Are you okay?” the guy says.

Mike says a muffled, “M’fine, thanks,” and curls his fingers into the guy’s scarf and holds on. “Where’s Billy?”

“I know you.” Bill’s voice comes somewhere from Mike’s left. “Why do I know you?”

“I just—have that kind of face?”

Mike snorts, pulls back so he can properly look at the guy. His vision’s fine, but his mind’s blurry with alcohol, so all he gets is the hair again, and the puppy-dog eyes. “’Lo,” he says.

The guy smiles. “Hi. Do you need a ride somewhere?”

“Wouldn’t say no,” Bill says.

They end up in the back of a big SUV, and Mike mostly tunes Bill and the guy out, staring at the TV screen embedded in the seatback in front of him, and he thinks he might’ve been out for a while, because the next thing he knows, Bill’s jabbing his bony fucking elbow in Mike’s side and they’re both standing out in the cool night air, staring up at a house he doesn’t recognize.

“Are we being kidnapped?” Mike asks.

Bill wraps a long arm around Mike’s shoulders. “The hotel. There was a hotel, and then there’s Em, and this fine young gentleman took it upon himself to, uh—”

“Nobody could give me an address,” the guy says. He gestures towards the house. There’s a big dude standing behind him, scowling, and Mike stares at him.

“Dude,” Mike says.

“I have some spare bedrooms?”

Bill says, “I hope you know who we are. I hope we know who you are, mysteriously familiar boy,” and Mike silently agrees, because otherwise this is just plain dangerous for everyone involved.

Mike is too wiped to argue – he just wants to get horizontal.

*

There’s a blur of time, of high ceilings and tricksy stairs. Then Mike’s getting practically dragged into a bedroom by the big dude, and the big dude’s radiating disapproval, Mike can tell that even blind, stinking drunk.

“Careful.”

“I’m totally being careful, Kev,” the big dude says gruffly, and then he drops Mike on a bed, and Mike blinks up at a canopy that’s really white and really lacey and, like, way gay.

Kev, the poodle, leans into his view. “You’re not gonna throw up again, are you?” he asks.

“No comment.” Mike is not making any promises. His body is rebelling. He hasn’t been this drunk since before Em, and his body’s all healthy and shit now; he’s maybe not a light-weight, but there’s going to be hell to pay tomorrow.

Kev grins at him, and Mike reaches up and palms his face – or slaps at him, he’s a little sloppy, but Kev doesn’t stop grinning. Mike wants to press his thumbs into his smile marks.

“Okay,” Kev says.

Mike says, “Okay,” and, “G’night.”

“You should maybe let me go,” Kev says, and Mike realizes he’s managed to hook his hand around Kev’s neck, just pressing there.

He fiddles with the short curls and weighs the pros and cons of a friendly kiss. Pro, this dude is adorable. Con, Mike’s pretty sure he’s thrown up within the past hour. Pro, drunken make-outs are pretty spectacular, he’s missed them. Con, eight or so hours ago he’d found out his girlfriend was fucking around on him. Con, drunken make-outs lead to awkward morning-afters. Con, there’s a good chance the big dude’s still lurking, and he kind of gets the impression that he really wants a reason to make Mike eat his fist.

Pro, Kev’s _still_ grinning at him.

Mike says, “Fuck it,” ‘cause he’s getting good vibes here, and he’s had an otherwise fucking miserable day.

Kev freezes when Mike kisses him, Mike can feel all his muscles tensing under his hands. And then, oh yeah, Kev kisses him _back_.

That’s pretty much the last thing Mike remembers.

*

There are tiny, vindictive, evil fucking gnomes scraping away at the inside of his skull with spoons when Mike crawls back into consciousness. Also, there’s a warm body tucked up next to him. From the way the body’s elbows are digging into Mike’s ribs, Mike correctly guesses that it’s Bill.

Mike shifts a little, and Bill swings his arms around him and clings like a limpet.

Bill whispers, “Do you know where we _are_?”

“No.” Mike’s voice hurts his own ears. Water would be the best thing ever right about now. Also, pills. Pills of all sorts, he doesn’t care what, so long as it dulls the painful throbbing in his head.

Bill hefts himself up. His hair has a C.C. DeVille thing going on; Mike would laugh if he didn’t think it would kill him. Otherwise, Bill seems pretty together. “I was snooping,” Bill says. “It took me twenty minutes to find you.”

Mike considers ignoring Bill and going back to sleep. “Okay.”

“ _Jonas_ , Mike.” Bill’s vibrating; Mike can feel it through the mattress. “Kevin Jonas took us home last night. Kevin, eldest Jonas brother, with the perfect thighs and the wife. I prefer Nick, of course, but only because he looks like he’d be fun to fuck with.”

“What?” His brain isn’t fully functioning, but he thinks Bill is _actually_ starting a conversation about the Jonas Brothers, and who’s his _favorite_ , and – it sounds like – who looks the hottest in a tight pair of pants. And then he thinks, _wait_ , and, _Kev_ , and, _wife_ , and, “Shit.”

Things are blurry, but there’s a good chance he made out with Kevin Jonas last night. Awesome.

“I hate my life,” Mike says, throwing an arm over his eyes and groaning.

Bill moves to straddle his waist. “There’s no need to be so glum, not when the JoBros are involved,” he says. He pulls Mike’s arm away and grins down at him. “Do you think he’ll make us breakfast?”

*

Mike tries not to be embarrassed. It usually takes a lot to make him uncomfortable, but apparently kissing a married Jonas brother is just freaky enough to make him flush. He’s wavering about apologizing when Kevin smiles at him over his spatula and asks, “Bacon?”

Kevin doesn’t _look_ like he needs to be apologized to. He actually looks kind of happy. Mike’s not sure what to make of that.

Bill leans against the kitchen island, hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. He says, “So where’s wifey?”

“Um.” Kevin darts a weird little look at Mike before shrugging. “Not here? I mean, we’re—separated.”

“Separated,” Mike says. He refuses to acknowledge the tiny thread of hope in his voice – Bill narrows his eyes at him speculatively. It’s fucking ridiculous, Kevin’s a god-fearing, Disney pop star, but that doesn’t negate the fact that Mike would very much like to see him naked. That would be fucking awesome.

“Her boyfriend’s nice,” Kevin says earnestly, and Bill bursts out laughing.

“You, Jonas. I like you,” Bill says, “I like all of you, I think your brother’s hilarious, the young one, with your mop of curls and Brad Pitt’s chiseled good looks.” He takes a sip of his coffee, humming. “Or perhaps not Brad, Brad’s overrated, but someone with a strong chin, like Kelly Ripa.”

“Bill,” Mike says.

Bill flaps a hand. “What, what? I’m only being truthful. Kevin here isn’t hurt, are you Kev? Don’t worry, good sir, Mike still likes you best.”

“Holy _shit_ ,” Mike says. When they get out of here, Bill is getting his ass kicked. He’ll avoid his pretty face, but only ‘cause that’s their money-maker. Besides their collective ability to rock the house.

Kevin is bright red. He says, “Bacon?” again, but faintly and kind of out of breath.

Bill grins and bounces on the balls of his feet. “Yes, please.”

*

Mike is pretty sure they should leave, but Kevin isn’t kicking them out, and, honestly, Mike’s enjoying himself. Bill is off bothering Big Rob, and Mike isn’t going to waste precious, Bill-free time.

“I don’t know—”

“What?” Mike has conquered Kevin’s lap, knees splayed on either side of Kevin’s thighs.

Kevin is breathing hard and there are blotches of red on his cheeks, down his throat – Mike’s fingers are fisted lightly in his hair, a careful grip framing his face. “Just, maybe.” Kevin’s hands hover in the air, there’s something unsure about him that makes Mike pause.

“Okay,” Mike says, and eases back a little, rests open palms on his own legs. “All right?”

Kevin swallows and nods and his hands finally find the front of Mike’s t-shirt. His eyes are huge and he says, “I’ve never done this before.”

Mike’s about to say, _what, made out?_ when the whole vulnerable act Kevin’s got going on hits him solid in the chest and he says, “Oh,” instead. _Oh_. It’s not so much that Mike thinks it’s a big deal – he doesn’t, not really - but that _Kevin_ thinks it is. He says, “You’re shattering my worldview here, Jonas, isn’t Disney Studios just a big den of iniquity?”

For a second, he thinks Kevin’s going to shove him off, but then he just laughs, and then covers his mouth and lets his eyes laugh for him.

Mike grins. “So here’s the thing,” he says. “It’s just like kissing a girl, only you’ve got some harder surfaces to work with.”

There’s a muffled, “Oh my god,” and Kevin brings up his other hand so he’s kind of covering his whole face, laughing more now, and Mike takes advantage of his distraction by slipping his fingers up under Kevin’s shirt.

The laughter chokes off with a startled yelp, and then Mike doesn’t let Kevin think about it; he just crowds in again and presses their mouths together until he feels Kevin relax – and then he starts licking inside. Hot coffee and bacon and cinnamon toast.

Mike’s sucking kisses along Kevin’s collarbone – pleased noises at the graze of teeth noted – when someone behind them clears their throat. Mike says, “Fuck off, Bill,” lips brushing Kevin’s reddened skin, but then Kevin’s pushing at his shoulders and the someone behind them is apparently three someones.

Bill, Big Rob, and Nick fucking Jonas.

*

Nick corners him in the bathroom. It’s kind of surreal. Mike washes his hands and keeps his eyes on Nick through the mirror over the sink.

Nick has got to be at least eight years younger than him, but Mike isn’t going to deny he’s got a scary dad vibe going on.

Mike waits him out. He turns and leans his ass on the sink and crosses his arms over his chest, making sure to keep one eyebrow raised – it’s his so-you-think- _you’re_ -an-intimidating-asshole pose, and it’s mostly all bluff and bluster; Mike gets melty over warm sweaters and kittens.

Nick doesn’t know that, though, and he lasts less than a minute before huffing a breath and running a harried hand through his hair. He says, “I’ll need your address.”

“Okay,” Mike says slowly. Not what he’d been expecting.

“You should have something by the end of the day,” Nick says, and Mike has absolutely no clue what he’s talking about, but he doesn’t want to let that show.

Mike nods. “Sure.”

“You’re probably a nice guy,” Nick says - and Mike snorts, because no way does Nick think he’s a _nice guy_ , it’s all there in his tone – “but I don’t know you, and Kevin doesn’t need this crap along with everything else. It’s bad enough that the divorce leaked.”

Mike’s starting to get the picture. He says, “So you want me to sign something.”

Nick pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes. Yes, I want you to sign something.”

Mike doesn’t like the way Nick is clearly assuming he’s an idiot. It’s not Mike’s fault that confidentiality papers aren’t the first thing he thinks about after hooking up; there’s only a very specific sect of fans that care who Mike’s sleeping with, and it wouldn’t ruin his career one way or the other.

“Hey, whatever, man,” Mike says with a shrug. He’s pissed at Nick, but the rest doesn’t bother him so much. They don’t know him, and he can see how they’d need to cover their asses. One of Disney’s princes being outted as gay the same week he loses a wife? Yeah, Mike’s not a douchebag.

“Great,” Nick says, and then stares at him some more, and, see, Nick isn’t really making the best impression on Mike.

Mike’s right hand is itching to punch him in the face.

Finally, Nick says, “Rob’ll take you guys home,” and Mike supposes that’s a dismissal.

He takes a deep breath and reminds himself that Nick’s just looking out for his brother, and that he probably isn’t this much of a fucking dick under normal circumstances. He makes himself shrug again, like it doesn’t matter, and says, “So do you have paper, or do you want me to write this out on your arm?”

Nick shoves his blackberry under his nose, and Mike rolls his eyes. He keys in his address - and his cell number, too; he figures _Kevin_ will appreciate that.

Mike says, “Tell him to call me.” He eyes Nick, and the way Nick absently nods. “I mean that.”

“I’ll tell him,” Nick says, and Mike lets Nick herd him out of the room and down the hall.

*

  
III. _because you are a stalker_

  
Kevin is stunned. He should probably not be as stunned as he is, but he can’t help it. “So, I’m gay,” Kevin says.

Nick says, “That’s nice,” and Joe holds up a hand so they can high-five. Kevin would be more into it if Joe had bothered to look up from his iPod.

“Thanks for the support, guys.”

Nick cocks his head. “I’m pretty sure we’ve already been over this.”

Maybe _they_ have, but Kevin’s never fully accepted their conclusions. There’d been no proof; liking guys had been kind of abstract. He’d had no practical experience. The whole making out with Mike thing had been both awesome and enlightening, and kind of weird, if he thinks about it too hard.

“I have no doubts now,” Kevin says emphatically.

“You had doubts?” Joe finally looks up, eyebrows slanted together. “What kind of doubts? Because Dani’s hot, dude, and you wouldn’t even touch her boobs.” He looks like he wants to give Nick a _boobs-yeah!_ high-five, but Nick clearly isn’t into it.

Nick’s watching Kevin with narrowed eyes. “Please tell me you don’t like him.”

“Like who?” Joe asks.

“Uh.” Kevin shifts on his feet. “Yeah?”

“ _Who_?” Joe says again, punching Nick in the arm.

Nick palms Joe’s face and shoves him away. “We’re talking about the same guy, right? The one who smelled like beer and puke? Did you happen to notice his serial killer eyes?”

Kevin flushes. “I thought he was hot.”

“Oh my god,” Joe says. He looks _delighted._

Nick just stares at him. He’s good at that.

Kevin flushes more and says, “It doesn’t matter. It was just a random hook-up. I’ll probably never see him again.” It kind of sucks, he’d been hoping to at least get a phone number or something. A last name would’ve been cool, too.

“Seriously,” Joe says, laughing now, “he sounds like a hobo, did you make out with a hobo?”

Kevin rolls his eyes. “He’s not a hobo. I met him outside a bar.”

Joe _howls_ , tears leaking out of the corners of his eyes. He latches onto Nick’s arm and Nick’s lips twitch, and he says, “Okay, Joe’s got a point, that actually does sound like a hobo.”

Kevin stomps his foot. “I _hate_ you, you guys both suck.” It’s not that funny. And Mike might’ve been a little rough looking, but those jeans had been designer, and Bill’d had on _awesome_ shoes.

When Joe collapses back into the couch, stifling the last of his giggles into the cushions, Nick schools his face serious again and says, “That was pretty stupid, Kev, you know that, right?”

Kevin knows it. Bill and Mike are nice guys, Kevin’s sure of that, but they might not have been. He’s also an adult, though, and Nick’s eighteen – which may’ve made him legal, but doesn’t erase the fact that Kevin’s the big brother here. Kevin’s the one who lives on his own, and is looking at a looming divorce.

“Everything’s fine,” Kevin says, and he means that about _everything_. He’s okay with Dani and Steven. All this proves is that Kevin is moving on, and that can’t be anything but good, he’s sure of it.

Nick smiles. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “Why don’t we keep it that way?”

*

Kevin doesn’t realize how much he’d been hoping for Mike to contact him in some way – he’s not sure how, but Mike _does_ know where he lives - until a week goes by and he doesn’t hear anything at all.

“What’s with the tragic pout?” Dani asks, squeezing lemon into her water. They’re at a semi-private table in a semi-public restaurant. Since news of the impending divorce leaked, they’re confirming the rumors, but letting everyone know that they’re still friends. Kevin feels silly; they _are_ still friends, but somehow shoving it in the public’s face like this makes it seem untrue.

“Nothing,” Kevin says.

Dani says, “Oh, don’t give me that. _Nothing_.” She p’shaws, flicking her fingers at him. “Monday you were all smiles, you hugged me _three times_. Now you look like Joe hid all your scarves.” She frowned. “He didn’t do that again, did he? I hope he remembers how pointy my shoes are from last time.”

Kevin shakes his head, muffles a grin with the side of his wrist.

She eyes him carefully.

Finally, he says, “I’m good, Dani,” and knocks her foot with his under the table. “It’s stupid.”

“Stupid like randomly bringing home a hobo?” she says. She’s smiling with the corner of her mouth when she says it, though.

“I’m gonna kill Joe,” Kevin says. “And he’s not a hobo, geez. It just.” He flushes. “It kind of meant something, you know?”

Danielle nods, slow. “Are you going to see him again?”

“No.” Kevin ducks his head and rubs the back of his neck. “I don’t think he wants to, at least.” He shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“Kev.” Dani reaches out and covers his hand with hers. He twists his wrist, threads their fingers together. “Kev,” she says again, “you’re kind of an idiot, sometimes.”

He’d argue, except their marriage is pretty much a prime example of that. If he doesn’t count how awesome Dani is. “Thanks,” he says.

She gives him her you-know-what-I-mean- _doofus_ look, and yeah, he knows what she means. But then her look turns wicked and she says, “What’s important—what’s _important_ here, Kev, is that now we can find you a guy.”

*

The last thing Kevin expects, sifting through his mail, is to see Mike’s face staring up at him. He pauses, turns the _Spin_ upside down, and then right-side up again. “Huh.” That’s Bill, too.

“What?” Joe says.

Mike is on the cover of _Spin_. He’s shirtless and surly, and Bill is larger than life, looming over Mike and three other guys. Kevin’s kind of fascinated with Mike’s forearms; crossed over his chest, like he’s pissed off at whoever made him take off his shirt – Kevin, on the other hand, would like to shake that person’s hand.

“What?” Joe says again, and then he leans over and snags the magazine out of Kevin’s grip. “The Academy Is…? Who are these guys? Were you mackin’ on this shirtless dude? Because that’s gross, he looks like he wants my soul.”

Nick slaps Joe on the back of the head. “Don’t say mackin’, geez, Joe,” he says, and then he looks over Joe’s shoulder and says, “Oh.”

“What?” Joe says. “Oh? Seriously, _what_?”

“That’s Mike,” Kevin says.

Joe looks at him askance. “Hobo Mike?”

“He’s not a hobo! In fact, he’s—” Kevin takes the magazine back and flips through to the cover story. There are more photos of Bill, and others of the entire band together, and Kevin skims the captions until he sees, _Mike Carden, guitarist_. “He’s in a band,” he says faintly. It’s a little weird, he thinks, reading through the article. What are the odds, right? And then he sees the word _girlfriend_ , and what little hope that had flared in his chest – he has a last name now, and a band name, and he knows he knows Pete Wentz; it shouldn’t be hard to track him down – dies. He goes back and reads the entire story anyway.

Nick reads it after him, and then he arches an eyebrow at Kevin and says, “So.”

“Yeah.” Kevin ducks his head. He knows that so. That’s the _so, I was right_ so.

“He’s got a girlfriend.”

Kevin shrugs, says, “Yeah,” again. It doesn’t change the fundamentals. Like how Kevin has a crush on a _guy_ , and how ten minutes of making out with Mike had been so much hotter than anything he’d done with Dani.

Joe actually looks sad about it, even though he’s been teasing him about Mike for weeks. He says, “Sorry, Kev.”

“It’s fine,” Kevin says. “I wasn’t going to see him again, anyway, right?” And Mike’s in a _band_ , and the best thing about public figures is that they make awesome fantasy crushes.

He wanders off to find his laptop, and maybe download some music.

*

Kevin becomes a giant, embarrassing fangirl.

Selena tells him this several times while they’re hiding out in the back of the venue. Way in the back, behind the crowd, and they’re attempting – and probably failing, though no one’s said anything to them yet – to be as inconspicuous as possible. Blending in is kind of hard with security following them around, but at least Big Rob is trying. Kevin has never seen him wear that much flannel. He appreciates the effort.

Selena’s hanging off Kevin’s arm, bouncing on her toes. She’s got a floppy purple hat on, a matching fringed scarf – which Kevin loves, fringed scarves look awesome on Selena - and large-framed sunglasses perched on her nose. Kevin’s pretty sure she’s having a blast.

“They’re catchy, I like them,” she says.

Kevin is not exactly sure why he’s at a TAI concert with Selena Gomez. Well, okay, he knows why he’s with _Selena_ \- Selena’s a trip and a half, and she’s always up for anything - but he’s not sure why he’s lurking around a TAI concert _at all_. “I feel like a stalker.”

“That’s because you are a stalker,” Selena says, patting his chest. “It’s cute, though, don’t worry.”

“This was a really bad idea,” Kevin says. The worst idea, he doesn’t know why nobody stopped him. They don’t even have a good view of the stage; they’re all just tiny, rockin’ blobs in the distance.

“No, it’s not. It’s _cute_ , trust me on this. We should sneak backstage.”

Kevin is horrified. He’s even more horrified when Selena tucks her hat under her arm, slips her sunglasses down her nose and arches an eyebrow up at him. “No,” he says.

“Oh, yeah,” she says, with this evil, Alex Russo grin. “We’re so totally doing this, come on.”

“No!” Stalking from a safe distance, that’s one thing. Accidentally stumbling on fanfiction while stalking from a safe distance – that’s another thing, one Kevin is trying very hard to erase from his brain. Showing up at a concert that he’s driven a good four hours to get to, well, that’s just crazy; the last thing he wants to do is see Mike. Well, okay, that’s a lie, Kevin would very much like to see Mike, he just doesn’t want Mike to see _him_.

Selena pokes him in the ribs. “Listen up, buddy. _You_ took me on this road trip. I need to experience some shenanigans here, some happenings that don’t involve Big Rob and his Mickey Mouse impression.”

Kevin stumbles back a step, the poking is starting to hurt, and Big Rob says, “Hey.”

Selena gives him a finger gun and slouches forward to lean into Kevin, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. “You’re awesome, Robert, Kev here’s just being a big dumb girl.”

“Hey!” Kevin says.

Selena ignores him and flags down a yellow-jacketed security guy with a, “You there, garcon, take me to your leader.”

The guy blinks at her.

She says, slow, like she’s talking to an alien, “Backstage. I’m somebody, you don’t want to peeve me, bucko.”

Kevin wants to slap a hand across his face. Selena isn’t a diva; she just finds it hysterical to act like one. He says, “I’m really sorry,” to the guy. “She’s on medication.”

Selena punches his arm.

Kevin mouths a silent _ow_ , and then the security guy tilts his head and says, “Aren’t you one of those Jonas kids?”

“Yes,” Selena says smugly. “Yes, he is.”

*

Kevin is going to kill Selena. Just as soon as he escapes the tight, painful grip she has on his arm – he spotted a bathroom back around the corner; he can totally kick her in the shins and run for it.

All too soon, though, there’s commotion and chaos and Kevin finds himself standing in front of a sweaty and slightly confused Bill Beckett.

Beckett flicks his hair out of his face and grins down at them, though. “Kevin Jonas,” he says, then squints his eyes at Selena. “And the mighty fine Miss Gomez. Tell me, princess, are you legal yet?”

Selena grins. “Last month, handsome.”

“You know,” Bill leans down toward her, waggles his eyebrows, “there are rumors that I’m married. It’s very possible that these rumors are correct.”

Selena says, “Okay,” and shrugs a little.

“And I could be intent on using you to get to Nick,” Bill says. “There’s something intriguing about that boy.”

Selena makes a face. “Don’t bother, Nick’s a stick in the mud.”

“You’re dating him,” Kevin points out. For the second time. Baffling, but true. Personally, Kevin thinks David Henrie is way hotter - and less likely to _actually_ be a robot sent back from the future to annihilate any and all good times.

“Well, _duh_.” She slaps his arm with the back of her hand. “Half the fun for me is digging him out.” Her grin widens to winning size, and Bill loops their arms together.

“Oh, pretty princess, I just might keep you.”

“Bill.”

Kevin’s heartbeat picks up, and he feels his entire body flush. The thing about crushes on famous people – even when you’re famous yourself – is that it’s always a kick in the teeth to run into them. It’s something that should never happen, and it’s fun to think about, imagine maybe, but when it actually happens, your mind blanks and your palms get sweaty, and it doesn’t matter that you’ve already made out with them – in fact, Kevin thinks that kind of makes it _worse_. Kevin has no idea how to act, and Mike’s behavior isn’t cluing him in. He’s got serious scruff going on, and the longer hair makes him look like an angry bear.

“Fun officially ruined,” Bill says with a sigh. “Carden the fun ruiner. This depressive kick you’ve got going on is worse than when Em first cleaned you up, back when you were dabbling in all things vegan and wearing those ridiculously large healing crystals.”

“I like you,” Selena says to Bill. “I can see why Demi wants to have all your babies.”

“Alas, that ship has sailed,” Bill says.

Kevin watches the volley between Selena and Bill with wide eyes and studiously ignores Mike, who’s standing just off to the side, scowling. This was such a bad idea. The longer Mike scowls, the more Kevin is convinced of that.

“So, uh,” Kevin finally cuts in. “We should probably get going.”

“Oh, no. No way, Jonas, I didn’t waste almost an entire day on this just to _leave_ ,” Selena says.

Bill looks intrigued. “On what?”

“Nothing,” Kevin says quickly.

“Yeah, nothing,” Selena agrees, although her eyes are doing this twitchy thing toward Mike, and she looks like she’s dangerously close to stomping her totally awesome, furry-booted feet in frustration.

Kevin hates her so very much. He shifts and gives Mike a weak smile. “Hi?”

*

Adam T. Siska is giving him the stink-eye. Kevin’s never had someone give him the stink-eye for quite this long before; it’s pretty unnerving. They’re alone in the diner bathroom, and Siska’s blocking the door, and Kevin was homeschooled, but he’s seen enough teen movies to worry about getting his head dunked in a toilet. And that’s _so gross_. He’d take a kick to the gut over that, he thinks. Maybe. If the shoes weren’t too pointy.

Kevin had escaped to the bathroom because Mike had been boring holes in the side of his head with laser beams disguised as eyes – Kevin’s convinced his brain had been steadily heating to mush. He’d splashed cool water on his face and did some deep breathing exercises and stared at the secondhand of his watch, ticking so slowly it actually looked like it was going backwards.

And now he doesn’t know what’s going on, because it’s obvious from the way Siska’s glaring at him that he did something wrong, and Kevin has no idea what that could be.

“What are you doing?” Siska finally asks.

“Um.” Kevin looks at the bank of sinks, then back at Siska. “Washing my hands?”

Siska rolls his eyes. He’s jittery on his feet, like he’s had too much caffeine or like he maybe wants to punch him. Siska isn’t actually a very threatening guy, but Kevin hates confrontation on all levels. It’s why he always gives Frankie all his grievances to read at family-slash-band meetings.

“I mean, what are you doing with Mike?”

“Nothing.” What does it _look_ like he’s doing? He debates owning up to the fangirl stalking, but before he can say anything else, Siska throws up his hands and says, “No _shit_.”

Color Kevin confused. “Okay?”

“You never called him,” Siska says.

“Was I supposed to?” Kevin is _lost_. There’s a flutter in his belly, though, this swell of nerves that makes his hands shake a little. His face feels hot.

Siska cocks his head and narrows his eyes. “Well, if you weren’t, then I’m _really_ not sure what you’re doing here.”

“I—”

“Jonas,” Siska says. He steps forward and takes Kevin’s shoulders and looks right into his eyes. “That is one sad little soldier out there. Rustle up a fairytale, dude. Disney is full of happy endings!”

Kevin’s eyes widen. “Did he say, uh. I mean, I can’t—what?”

“Look.” Siska holds out a hand. “Give me your cell.”

Kevin pries his cell out of his tiny front pocket and gives it to Siska.

Siska works the keys and says, “I’m putting Mike’s number in here. What you do with it is up to you, but if you’re gonna keep showing up at our fucking concerts, you might want to call him first. Just saying.” He slaps the phone back into Kevin’s hand. “Both of you need to get a fucking clue, I’m not your fairy godmother here.”

Kevin, weirdly giddy and still kind of confused, is pretty sure Siska _is_.

  
*

  
IV. _I think we can fake it_

  
Mike is man enough to admit that he’s kind of a mess. He sleeps too much and showers less than normal and eats a lot of hot pockets, which have no nutritional value whatsoever, and actually don’t taste all that great either.

Touring helps, because he’s stuck on a bus with Butcher and Siska, and they’re always good for a distraction.

At the same time, Butcher and Siska bug the shit out of him.

Siska says he’s trying to get him laid, but the biggest problem with that is, honestly, that Mike doesn’t _want_ to get laid. Butcher says that makes him an alien or a robot or an alien robot, and goes around pushing him into walls and saying, “What have you done with Mike, you fucker?” and Mike can tell he’s only half kidding, and that the other half is annoyed at whatever Mike has become. Which, on the surface, sounds like a responsible adult – he stays sober, he goes to bed while everyone else parties, he calls his mom every night - except Mike has stopped shaving, and even the fans at their meet-and-greets are starting to avoid him.

Two weeks after Kevin Jonas and Selena fucking Gomez show up at their concert – seriously, it’s not like he’d really been expecting Kevin to call, but when Kevin _didn’t_ call, he’d realized that he’d _really been expecting Kevin to call_ ; the disappointment and rejection had been just another blow, piled on top of Em being a cheating bitch, and no way had he been prepared for Kevin to just— _show up_ like that – Mike gets a text message from an unfamiliar number.

He stares at it before opening it, and his heartbeat does this trip-hitch thing when he sees, _hi! its Kevin :)_

Huh.

Mike stuffs his cell back in his pocket without answering. He does soundcheck and goes for pizza with a few roadies and then he throws himself into their show - he can still do that, can still put everything he has into their music – and then he collapses, exhausted and buzzing, into his bunk four hours later.

Finally, he texts Kevin back, _hey_

He doesn’t get an answer right away, but he figures it’s past eleven on the west coast, and who knows what Kevin’s up to after dark.

Mike wriggles out of his jeans and tugs the covers over his head.

*

Kevin texts Mike, _Joe gave frankie coffee_

And, _we’re hiding from nick_

Mike frowns, because he has no idea who Frankie is. He sneaks into the back of the bus and snags Siska’s laptop, and only feels slightly weird Googling ‘Jonas Brothers’ and ‘Frankie.’ He scrolls through Bonus Jonas’s blog, which is sort of unreal and hilarious, and then he texts Kevin, _he’s 10??_

 _A very mature ten_ , Kevin sends back, and right on its heels: _I think I hear him breathing_

 _Frankie?_

 _Nick! Do androids needto breathe_ , Kevin texts and Mike laughs.

He sends, _ur fam is weird_

Kevin doesn’t immediately respond, and Mike makes a face, thinks maybe he said something wrong. Fifteen minutes later, though, another message from Kevin pops up: _just got lectured by the youngest old man in histry_

Mike grins. _Uve never hungout with ryan ross_

 _If hes like nick I don’t want to_ , Kevin sends.

Mike texts, _Unless hes high_ , and Kevin writes back, _:(:(:(_ , which just makes Mike grin _wider_ , because Mike is texting _Kevin Jonas_ , that doesn’t stop being surreal, and sort of fucking awesome.

*

It gets to the point where Mike grins every time his phone pings, and Bill gets suspicious.

“Not that I’m displeased that you’re smiling again, Carden,” Bill says, “but if you’re planning for a zombie apocalypse, I’d like prior warning.”

Mike stares at him. “How can—you know what, I don’t wanna know.” He shakes his head with a chuckle.

Bill jabs a finger into his chest. “You’re freaking me out.”

“What?”

“You’ve been a mess for weeks, and now you clipped your beard - to attractive lengths, might I add - and you’ve got these secret, zombie apocalypse grins. You know, like the ones Gerard Way was sporting during Warped five years ago, when we stumbled onto his shiny yet disturbing hidden collection of machetes.” Bill wraps a hand around Mike’s neck and touches their foreheads together. “Butcher has expressed worry to me.”

“Butcher thinks I’m an _alien_ ,” Mike says.

Bill sighs. “Butcher thinks you’re sad.”

Something tightens around Mike’s heart. Fucking Butcher. They’re all douches, but he loves these guys. “I’m fine.”

“Suddenly you’re fine. Poof.” Bill does jazz hands. “We’ve only got a couple choices here. Recreational drugs, zombie apocalypse—oh my god, you’ve killed Em.”

“Bill. First of all—” Mike actually can’t bring himself to tell Bill how wrong all of that is, but that’s mostly because of the look on Bill’s face – Bill doesn’t believe any of it either, he’s just trying to trick Mike into telling him what’s _really_ going on.

Mike wavers barely a minute before giving up; this is only going to get more ridiculous, otherwise. He wordlessly gives Bill his phone.

Bill’s eyebrows go quizzical, but he flips it open. He stares at it a second, then Mike sees him go for the inbox. Mike knows what he’ll find.

“Hmmm,” Bill says. A smile grows on his mouth – it gets bigger as he scrolls through Mike’s messages. “Well.”

“Yeah,” Mike says. He can feel a faint blush on his cheeks.

“This is adorable.”

“Thanks.” Mike tries to frown. It’s surprisingly really, really hard.

“He’s internet stalking you, you realize.”

“I figured.” Kevin knows way too much random shit about their band. Fair’s fair, though – Mike’s been internet stalking Kevin, too. Mike’s watched _Bounce_ more times than he’ll ever admit, and he finds it funny even with the distinct lack of Kevin in it. He thinks if he didn’t want in Kevin’s pants, Joe would be his favorite, and that Bill’s probably right – Nick would be really fun to fuck with. It’s embarrassing, how much Jonas Brothers shit he has saved in his delicious account.

Bill snaps the cell shut. “I approve,” he says.

Mike stares at him. “Good,” he says dryly. “’Cause, you know, I was worried.”

*

Mike forgets to turn his phone off, but it’s not like anyone’s paying attention to him anyway. Kevin texts, _aren’t u on the radio?_ when Mike immediately sends, _hey_ , back to Kevin’s, _howdy_

Bill leans over his shoulder while he types, though, and the DJ notices, and Bill, who is a _giant douchebag_ , says, “He’s texting his significant other,” when the DJ asks what they’re doing.

Mike snorts.

The DJ grins and says, “So are any of you still single?”

Bill says, “Butcher and Siska, unless you count all the hot monkey sex they’re having with each other.”

The DJ obviously doesn’t know if they’re joking or not; he smiles gamely at them, but his eyes are darting back and forth. They’re not joking – Siska and Butcher are fucking, Mike has to _share a bus_ with them – but at the same time Bill’s not being serious about it.

Butcher rings an arm around Bill’s neck and wrestles him off his chair. “It’s not nice to spill all our big gay secrets on air, Billvy,” he says, while Siska’s shouting about getting gay married in the background, and Bill laughs so hard he starts coughing, face mashed into the thin carpet.

Mike leans into the mic and says, “Sorry, folks.”

And then Bill grabs his ankle and yanks him down.

*

It takes Mike the rest of the day to realize Kevin is ignoring him. He’s just not entirely sure _why_.

Bill stomps up onto his bus, waving his cell in the air. “It’s the very height of Disney ridiculousness,” he says.

“What is?” Mike asks, without looking up from his phone. He figures the last text he got from Kevin was during the radio interview, right before Butcher attacked Bill. Huh.

Bill says, “A masked ball. Princess Selena called me, the costumes are expected to be _lavish_. We’ll have our work cut out for us.”

Mike blinks up at him. “What?”

Bill taps his finger on his bottom lip. “I’m thinking something green. It’ll bring out your eyes. Good thing your hair’s nearly grown out again.”

“The fuck?”

“Well, it’ll be sweeter clubbed, you see, just a tie at the back of your neck.” Bill pulls his own hair back. “It’s the style, Selena says think gothic Victorian. I actually have little to no idea what that looks like, but I think we can fake it.”

Mike’s getting an idea of what’s going on. “You want us to crash a Disney ball?”

“It’s a grand gesture type of thing,” Bill says. “Siska’s the one who suggested it, but Selena says she’ll help.”

Mike looks back down at his phone. He’s about to be all vulnerable and shit, ask Bill if he thinks Kevin will _want_ him there, but he shakes it off. He’s totally not that fucking pathetic, just because Kevin hasn’t said anything all day. He’s probably busy. “When is it?” he asks.

“A few weeks,” Bill says. “We’ll be barely an hour away, and it’s one of our travel days. We’ll just skip a hotel night, drive through, crash, hopefully _not_ burn, you can smooch your new man and I can properly stalk Nick, it’ll be fun for everyone.”

Mike nods, slowly. He types, _I think bill has designs on your bros virtue_ , and sends it to Kevin.

It takes an hour to get a response, but he _gets a response_. A knot he didn’t know he had loosens in his chest, but travels up to stranglehold his throat. _Which one?_ it says, _bc joe’ll be all over that_

Mike laughs a little. _I’ll let bill know_

*

  
V. _pantaloons_

  
It’s the anniversary of High School Musical or Sonny With A Chance’s hundredth episode or something – Kevin hadn’t really paid attention when they’d told him, but he isn’t complaining.

Kevin isn’t gonna lie, he likes the fancy costumes. They’re even letting him wear a feathered cap. He’s all in white and gold, with a stiff collar and these braided things on his shoulders and his boots have heels, which he _loves_ ; they make a clicky sound as he walks down the corridor.

Nick is miserable in several shades of blue, but only, Kevin knows, because he’d wanted to wear the crown.

Joe gets to wear the crown. He’s in seafoam and silver and the tails of his coat flutter when he walks. Joe is _preening_.

Kevin understands, he’s on the verge of preening, too – he’s got a _feather in his cap_. It swoops down around his face and it’s so _soft_ , and it totally makes up for the itchy domino over his eyes.

“Ugh, I hate this,” Selena says, tugging on the hem of her fitted top. Her skirt is so wide she squishes Kevin into the wall when she steps up next to him. She grimaces. “Sorry.” Gathering her skirts into her arms, she flashes most of her legs up to mid-thigh, and Joe wolf-whistles.

Nick kicks him in the shin.

“ _Ow_ ,” Joe says, hopping around on one foot.

“My hero,” Selena says dryly, but she leans over and pecks Nick on the cheek.

“Why are we doing this again?” Nick says, grumbling.

“Because it’s Sterling Knight’s birthday.”

“Wait, we’re having a masked ball for _Chad Dylan Cooper’s_ sweet sixteenth?” Joe says.

“He’s twenty-two, jerk,” Selena says. “Now help me find Demi. I need to get these shoes off _yesterday_ or I’m really gonna hurt someone.”

Joe leans into Kevin and stage-whispers, “Didn’t we just have a pizza party for Nick’s last birthday?”

“There were balloon animals,” Kevin says. “We let Frankie plan it, remember?”

“Hell, yeah. The balloon animals were kickass.”

“I can hear you, you know,” Nick says, scowling at them.

“Oh, you loved it,” Joe says. “You had a _crown_. Bet you wish you had a balloon crown now, huh? Not as cool as my— _ow_ , stop, stop, watch the _hair_ , dude!”

Joe and Nick wrestle each other into a wall, and Kevin stands next to Selena and just watches, because he doesn’t want to risk ripping his brocade waistcoat, and his pants are really tight and Kevin doesn’t want to test the seams – Sterling would never let him live it down if he flashed all of Disney’s darlings at his birthday party. Actually, neither would Nick. Or Joe, but for entirely different reasons; it’d be like that time Joe auctioned off his ruined white pants and half a salami sandwich he’d bit into on eBay, along with the picture that proved Kevin’d been the one who’d gotten the mustard everywhere.

But really, “Who gets a masked ball for their birthday party?” Even when Kevin had turned twenty-one he’s pretty sure all he’d gotten was a card from Mickey Mouse and a voicemail from some PR guy that used the words _soused_ and _windowless basement_ \- he’s pretty sure Joe got the same thing for his last two birthdays, too, but Joe makes his own fun; he’d basically disappeared for three days with Nicole and Demi and the bassist from The Scene.

“Chad Dylan Cooper is the boy all tweens love to hate,” Selena says, wincing as Joe slams an elbow back into Nick’s throat. Then she grins wonkily up at Kevin. “Plus, he’s super cute.”

*

Kevin actually likes Sterling. He runs into him at the buffet and Sterling gives him a fist-bump and says, “Dude, check out my cape.”

Kevin briefly thinks that maybe guys in their twenties shouldn’t be that excited about capes, but then he thinks, _heck yeah, capes_ , and wishes he had one, too. “It’s pretty sweet,” Kevin says. “I like the way it shimmers.”

“It’s the same material as my pants.”

“Cool.” Kevin finds satisfaction in having a valid excuse to look at Sterling Knight’s pants. Selena was right, he’s super cute. Kevin doesn’t know why it took him this long to realize he was gay, it’s kind of sad.

When he looks up again, he spots Bill – unmistakably Bill - over Sterling’s shoulder. “Oh no,” he says. Bill has on lots of pink. Lots and lots of pink, he looks like strawberry ice cream, and his cheeks are flushed below his mask and he’s dancing with Selena, and Kevin stares long and hard at them, because he knows if he takes his eyes off Bill he’s going to see Mike, and Kevin is wearing pantaloons, and buckled boots, and a feathered cap – all awesome things, yes, but Mike is a _rock star_ , he doesn’t think he’d appreciate Kevin’s look.

Of course, Bill’s a rock star, too, and his shirt has _ruffles_.

“What’s wrong, man?” Sterling says around a mouthful of crackers and cheese.

“Um. Nothing,” Kevin says. “I just have to—” He gestures past him, away, toward the restrooms or the chocolate fountain or whatever, and Sterling nods.

“Sure, Jonas, see you,” he says, and Kevin just barely remembers to toss, “Happy birthday,” over his shoulder as he hurries off.

He edges the room, scanning the crowd nervously. On one end, he spots Siska spiking the punch, surreptitiously splashing clear liquid out of a hipflask. He finds Butcher and Michael Guy and Naomi on the dance floor, not far from Bill, with a visibly flustered Nicole as Butcher grabs hold of her waist and— _twirls_. It’s pretty funny, actually.

He doesn’t know where Mike is, and the more he doesn’t see him, the more he _wants_ to, even dressed like he is. He tugs off his domino – it’s probably against the rules, but his face is sweating, it’s really gross – and taps his foot and stares down at the tiled floor, wondering what he’s supposed to do next.

“Hey, Prince Charming.”

Kevin jerks his head up. “Siska.”

“Nice hat.” Siska smirks and reaches out and flicks Kevin’s feather.

“Thanks,” Kevin says, frowning.

“So we got your belle to the ball,” Siska says, “but he’s a little shy.”

Kevin stares at him. Siska’s a little mischievous around the eyes, but he mostly seems _serious_. “What?”

“Not all of us can rock the—whatever the hell these are,” Siska says, plucking at the fabric over his thighs.

“Pantaloons,” Kevin says faintly.

“You knowing that makes so much sense,” Siska says. Then he grabs hold of Kevin’s shoulders – like before, Kevin gets a quick flash of déjà vu – and spins him around and there— _there_. Mike. Skulking around the restroom alcove, arms crossed, domino tugged down off his face and around his neck; he’s half-caught in the shadow of a huge, overgrown potted plant.

There’s a second when their eyes catch, when Mike sighs and shifts and drops his arms. Kevin can see Siska’s vision now, from before – this could totally be a fairytale; Mike’s a shining knight in dark green, with these awesomely tight pants and tall black boots and a _bow_ in his _hair_. Kevin tries very hard not to swoon when Mike takes a step toward him, and then another.

“Oh,” Kevin says, light, like he doesn’t have enough air to breathe.

Siska pounds him on the back. “Go get ‘im, tiger.”

Siska is the best fairy godmother ever.

*

Mike looks awkward. Clearly he looks _awesome_ – he’s clean shaven again, and Kevin likes the longer hair, even the way it’s combed and pulled back – but he definitely looks awkward, too, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands or his feet or his whole body.

“I’d ask you to dance,” Mike says, “but that’s probably a bad idea.”

Kevin wants to say it’s not, but it’s kind of like the split seams thing; only there’s a time and place, and there’s never a time and place for split seams. “We can—do you want to go outside?” It’s sort of stifling in there, Kevin wants to unbutton his shirt, but he doesn’t really want to disturb his ascot.

Mike nods, and Kevin doesn’t really know where they’re going – the place is a maze – but they silently wind down corridors, side-by-side, until they somehow end up on an open parapet, surveying the Kingdom, all the way down Main Street, USA. It looks like the lights stretch on forever. There are crowds already gathering for the fireworks, clumps of people left over from the parade. The air smells like hotdogs.

“So,” Kevin says.

Mike ducks his head. “You got a little weird.” 

“I—” Kevin doesn’t deny it, even though he wants to. It’s hard; having this huge crush on a guy who seems accessible and not at the same time. He doesn’t really hold it against Mike, even though he maybe should – he doesn’t know, maybe they’re open like that, but Kevin doesn’t want to fool around with a guy who has a girlfriend. Tonight, though—it’s really, really hard to remember _why._

Mike has hard angles and intense eyes and he has warm, calloused hands that are currently cupping the curve of Kevin’s jaw.

Kevin closes his eyes and takes a deep breath and moves away.

Mike’s hands drops. “What?” He sounds defensive, and when Kevin looks at him again his eyes are flat.

“You have a girlfriend,” Kevin says.

Mike blinks, like he didn’t think that was what Kevin was going to say. He says, “I don’t.”

“You—” Kevin shakes his head. “On the radio. Bill said you were—” He swallows hard. “Your _significant other_ , Mike.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mike says, moving closer to Kevin again, shackling his wrist when Kevin takes a step back. He pins him to the parapet wall, hands over his hands on the stone. “Who was I texting?”

When Kevin breathes, their chests touch. Kevin’s having trouble thinking clearly. “Who—?”

Mike leans in, says through clenched teeth. “Who was I texting, Jonas?”

“Me,” Kevin says shakily. “Me and your girl—”

Mike says, “Are you—he was talking about _you_ , you moron!” He drops his forehead onto Kevin’s shoulder with a groan. “I don’t have a fucking girlfriend.”

“But, um. Okay?” He stops himself from saying, ‘I read that you _did_ ,’ because Kevin’s read a lot of things about Mike. The internet is a font of information, most of it erroneous – unless Mike really _does_ eat babies, but Kevin has his doubts. He also doesn’t say that Nick’s been frowning over his whatever-this-is with Mike from the start, and that, thanks to Nick, Kevin knows that Em is Australian and pretty and looks awesome in crop-tops – none of which Kevin can boast.

Nick _means_ well, but any way you slice it, if Siska’s their fairy godmother, then Nick is the evil queen. Kevin suddenly finds that hilarious. He bites his lip, holding back laughter, but he can’t keep his body from shaking. It’s _funny_.

Mike shifts back, looks concerned for a whole second before quirking one side of his mouth up. “Are you laughing at me, Jonas?”

“No.” Kevin twists his hands out from under Mike’s and brings them up to clutch the front of Mike’s jacket. “Siska thinks you’re my Disney princess.”

“Siska’s gonna get his ass kicked, then,” Mike says, absently. He’s staring at Kevin’s mouth.

“I don’t know. The castle, the moon, the stars,” Kevin says. He can hear faint traces of music from the ballroom drifting up toward them. It sounds like _Hips Don’t Lie_ , but Kevin isn’t going to be picky. “He was pretty adamant about having a fairytale ending.”

“You know most fairytales actually have a lot of death and gore in them. We could have that kind of ending.” Mike tugs on Kevin’s feather. “Or we could make out.”

Kevin is still nervous about that part – the making out part, even though they’ve done it before, and Kevin definitely wants to do it again. He fidgets against Mike and licks his lips. “Um.”

“Nice,” Mike says, and then he kisses him.

He kisses him just as Tinkerbell flies by on her zip line, and Kevin closes his eyes on the first bursts of explosive colors, and it’s possibly an even more ridiculous moment than when he’d given Danielle the glass slippers. He’s glad there’s no one there to witness it, this time – Kevin wants this all to himself.

*

“You guys are so gross,” Joe says. He makes a _bleh_ face, like he’s eight years old and afraid of getting cooties. Kevin knows it’s not a guy thing – the bassist from The Scene a case in point – but no one wants to see their brother get some; Kevin would rather stab himself blind than watch Nick and Selena tongue kiss, or watch Joe do whatever he does to his dates that makes them smile so big afterwards – Kevin doesn’t even want to _think_ about it.

He makes his own _bleh_ face.

Mike pokes him in the stomach. “Hey, necking here.”

“Did you just say _necking_?” Joe asks, big-eyed, and Mike grabs the first thing he can get his hands on – it happens to be Selena’s latest CD, which Kevin _loves_ – and pegs it across the room at him.

“You’re buying me a new one,” Kevin says, watching sadly as the CD hits Joe and splinters. Joe yelps and ducks out of the room.

“Buy it yourself, rich boy,” Mike says. He pulls Kevin onto his lap and starts licking his throat again, which is one of Kevin’s favorite things; Mike’s mouth is _magic_.

Kevin digs his hands into Mike’s hair. He shivers and presses closer, says, “Mike,” and then Nick stomps into the room, waving a magazine and yells some things like, “Blah, blah, blah, Mike, blah, Mike, blah, blah,” because Kevin can’t be expected to pay attention to anything when Mike has his hands up his shirt.

Mike says, “I hate your brothers,” against Kevin’s neck. He sighs, a warm, damp gust of breath that completely blanks Kevin’s mind.

When he blinks back into the conversation, Mike is pushing Kevin off his lap and saying, “What, for real?” as he rips the mag out of Nick’s hand - Nick looks like he’s having an apoplexy; his face is all funny and blotchy-red.

“Huh,” Mike says.

“What?” Kevin asks, leaning forward. He hooks his chin over Mike’s shoulder.

Mike pulls away a little and glances at him. “What do you think?”

What does he think? It’s a picture of them in the center of _US Weekly_ , it looks like, in the people scene section. “It’s not that bad,” Kevin says. “The wind is doing great things with your hair.”

Nick makes a sound like an enraged bull. “It looks like you’re holding hands!”

“Well, that’s because we are,” Mike says calmly, and Kevin sort of loves him, right then. He’s kind of totally in love with him, really.

He doesn’t say it out loud, but he’s afraid his dreamy eyes will betray him.

Mike gives him a crooked smile.

“So, you’re—” Nick sputters a little, “you don’t _care_?”

Kevin holds Mike’s gaze and shrugs. “It’ll come out sooner or later,” he says, and sees Mike’s smile grow. He turns and looks at Nick. “They didn’t even catch it, Nick, or else we wouldn’t be in people scene.” 

“It’d be front page news,” Joe says, slipping back into the room. “You two are sweet, geez, all the girls would eat up a big gay coming out.”

“Joe,” Nick says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I was all for doing it before remember.” Joe leans against the doorjamb – he’s wearing his jacket sleeves rolled up, like he’s on Miami Vice, Kevin’s pretty sure that means he’s got a date – and says, “And now it’ll be better, because Kevin’s totally dating his celebrity crush.”

Mike chokes on a laugh. “Kev?”

Kevin flushes, embarrassed, but he grins at him and says, “I’m dating my celebrity crush. I’m like Katie Holmes, only you’re not crazy and in a cult.”

Mike waggles his eyebrows. “How do you know?”

Kevin wouldn’t put the whole cult thing past Pete Wentz, actually, but he realizes that he doesn’t care. “Just so long as you don’t make me drink the Kool-Aid,” he says and kisses Mike so long his ears buzz, while Nick says, incredulously, “Are you making Jonestown jokes now?” in the background and Joe makes some retching sounds, and when they come back up for air, Mike has stunned, glazed eyes and they’re alone again.

“I really don’t care, you know,” Kevin says. “About the picture.”

Mike swipes his thumb along his jaw. He says, “I know. Me neither.”

*

  
Epilogue: _at least it’s not a sex tape_

  
Bill thinks it’s hysterical. Mike is not surprised about this.

Bill laughs and laughs and _laughs_ , and Mike’s a good sport about it; he punches him in the shoulder instead of the face.

“It’s not that funny, dickwad,” Mike says.

“It’s pretty funny,” Siska says.

Kevin grins at them. “The last time I was on TMZ there was a still of me picking my nose,” he says, and Bill laughs _even harder_ , Mike didn’t think that was possible.

Mike hunches further into the couch and scowls.

Kevin nudges their arms together. “Come on. It’s not that bad.”

“This was months ago, how did they even get this?” Mike doesn’t understand. There, frozen on the screen – because Bill’s still a giant douchebag and he keeps rewinding the DVR – is a shaky cell phone video of Mike pinning Kevin to the wall of Cinderella’s Castle. Who could have even _shot_ that?

Butcher holds up his hands. “Don’t look at us, dude. I think I had Siska in the bathroom by that point.” He leers at Siska, and Kevin makes that _eww_ sound that never fails to make Mike smile.

Mike manfully holds his lips steady.

Bill stops giggling into his hands long enough to hit Play again.

There’s some clothes rustling and panting and Kevin saying, “ _Mike_.” They look like two Regency romance novel rejects, it’s so fucking embarrassing. The helpful TMZ voiceover just makes Mike want to never go out in public again.

Kevin suddenly sits up straighter and says, “Wait,” and, “Rewind that again.”

Mike drops his head back and groans and silently asks the ceiling, _why me?_

Bill gleefully hits the back button, then plays it from the beginning.

“There’s a—” Kevin points at the screen. “That! I know that laugh.” It’s a barely there chuckle, like an evil _heh_. “Frankie.”

“Frankie? Your ten-year-old brother, Frankie? _That_ Frankie?” Mike likes Frankie – he’s a cool little dude, Mike’s started him on a kickass collection of random tees. “Was he planning on living to see eleven?”

“Frank has a really loose interpretation of pranks,” Kevin says. “I once helped him convince Joe he had crabs.”

Everyone pauses.

Bill kind of looks like he wants to laugh some more, but it’s so _bizarre_ , he seems caught in a thoughtful frown instead. “I think I want to meet this Jonas. He may be my new favorite.”

Kevin leans his head on Mike’s shoulder as Bill starts the TV again, this time letting it play on. He says, “It’s really not so bad.” 

Mike grunts. It’s not like Perez hadn’t outted them the month before. Not meanly, surprisingly, because apparently Kevin’s a _darling_ , and Mike’s a _gentleman_ – what the fuck? - and there are poll results up on E! comprised almost entirely by twelve-year-old girls who want them to get married on a miniature pony farm in Vermont. And then make out a lot in front of them.

They’ve gotten half their wish.

Mike threads their hands together, rests them on his knee. It’s really not that bad.

Siska says, “And, hey. At least it’s not a sex tape.”


End file.
